


Can You Dig It?

by scruffandyarn



Series: Missing Links [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demons, F/M, If any of this is triggering, Psychological Torture, Springfield is mentioned, Torture, Violence, Wee bit of smut, please do not read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffandyarn/pseuds/scruffandyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Some thing doesn’t change<br/>There is only one<br/>Always changing inside<br/>What does it become?</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Dig It?

**Author's Note:**

> My medical knowledge is limited to my own experiences and watching re-runs of M*A*S*H growing up. I did a little digging, but I'm sure what I have here is not 100% accurate. Hopefully, it doesn't detract too much from the story.
> 
> Also, as I said in the tags, there is violence and torture--mostly psychological. If any of this could be triggering to you, please skip this story. Keep yourself safe.
> 
> And just so you know, I'm totally not anti-Cas. However, this is written from the POV of someone who wasn't there through it all and just knows him as the one who hurt her Sam. Just so there's no confusion as to why the reader is so angry with him.

“Sam?”  He’d just cut himself off, mid-way through telling you about a set of cursed shoes.

His voice was no more than a whisper.  “He’s here.”  He sounded more rattled than you’d ever heard him.

“Who, Sam?”

‘Lucifer.”

Shit.  “Sam, where’s Dean?  Can you get to Dean?  Press on your hand, Sam.  He’s not real.”

“No!”  His voice sounded so far away now.  “You can’t have her!”  A loud bang, and then the line went dead.

“Shit, shit, shit!”  You dialed Dean.  “Dean?”

“______?  What’s wrong?”

“Sam!  Where is he?  We were just talking and...I think he saw Lucifer.  There was a loud sound, then his phone cut off.  Is he with you?”

“Shit.  ______, I gotta call you back.”

“Please.”

“I will.”

 

It was twenty-four long, hair pulling hours before he called you back.

 

“______?”

“What the hell, Dean?  I’ve been climbing the fucking walls here.  Where’s Sam?”

“They got him locked up in a mental hospital.”

You felt all the blood drain from your face.  “What?  Where?  I’m on my way to you.”  You’d already had your bag packed.  All that was left was a destination.

“I’m at Bobby’s cabin.”

The pang you felt in your heart at the mention of the deceased hunter had to take a back seat to the growing panic you felt for Sam.

“What about--”

“He’s still at the hospital.”

“You just left h--?”

“They’re getting worse, ______.  He walked out in front of a moving car to try and get away from them.  At least in there, they’ll keep him from hurting himself.”

“Alright.”  You sighed.  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks.”

“Love you, too, Dean.”

 

It took a solid night of driving, but there was no way in hell you were getting any sort of sleep.  Both Sam and Dean needed you, and you weren’t letting them down.

Once you got to the cabin, Dean filled you in on the case he and Sam had been working on that had resulted in Sam’s insomnia and hallucinations getting worse.  He talked about the case Sam had been telling you about--the one with the shoes, and how he was pretty sure Frank Devereaux was dead.  Then he told you about Sam’s accident and hospitalization.

“What can I do?”

“You know of anybody who can help with this kind of shit?”

“I--not off-hand.” You wracked your brain.  “Maybe someone I know does...but I don’t know.”  You pulled your phone out of your pocket.  “I can start making--”

“I’ll make the calls.”  Dean took your phone from your hand.  “Can you--can you just go...keep an eye on him or something?  Maybe you can get him to snap out of it or something.”

“Do you honestly believe it will be that easy?”  You looked at him skeptically.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”  

You took a second to study Dean.  Eyes sunken, shoulders sagging--he was tired.  He needed something, some sort of hope, to lean on.

“Yeah, Dean.  I’ll try.”

  


“I have to warn you.  Even when his brother was here, he was pretty unresponsive.”  The doctor placed what you assumed was supposed to be a comforting hand on your shoulder.  “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if this turns out the same way.”

You looked in through the window in the door.  Sam was dressed in all white, a bandage around his wrist, and several cuts and bruises on his skin.  His face--how long had it been since he’d slept?  He looked so damn awful.

“It’ll be fine.”  You forced a smile to your lips.  “Thanks, though.”

“Alright.”  The doctor opened the door and stepped in, blocking your view of Sam.  “You have a visitor.”  He moved to the side.

“______.”

“Hey, Sam.”  You sighed.  “Thanks, doc.”

The doctor smiled and left, closing the door behind him.

“Dean called you?”

He didn’t make a move in your direction, so you stayed where you were, awkwardly standing near the door.

“Called me back, actually.”  You bit your lip.  “I got a little concerned with the way our last phone call ended.”

“You shouldn’t be here.  There’s no point in it.”

“But I am here.”  You shrugged.  “I’ve missed you.”

_Isn’t that just adorable?_

“Shut up.” Sam snapped at the space to your right.  

_How she talks to you like you actually mean something to her.  Just Awww._

“I said shut up!”

“Sam?  Talk to me, OK?  I know you see him, but do you think you could ignore him for a little while?”

_Ignore me? ______, I’m hurt._

Sam was on his feet in an instant, shouting at that same empty space to your right.  “Don’t you say her name.  Don’t you fucking say her name.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves.  “How about you lay back down, Sam?”  You reached out to take his hand, having to tamp down the hurt you felt when he yanked his hand away.

“Sorry.  Sorry.”

“No, hey.  That was my bad.”  You closed your eyes, trying to think of something to make this easier.  “What if...what if I sit?  Would you come sit with me?”  You walked over and perched on the edge of the bed.

After several seconds, he nodded stiffly before sitting next to you.  “I can’t get him to stop.”

“And pressing on your hand doesn’t help anymore?’

“I--I let him in.”  He looked at you with shame in his tired eyes.

“OK.”  You shrugged.

He cocked an eyebrow.  “OK?”

“D’you have a good reason for doing it?”

“Y-yeah.  Dean--”

You shook your head.  “You don’t need to tell me.  If you say you had a good reason, then you had a good reason.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes.  “What did you tell them to let you in with me?”

You sighed.  “I...uh...I might have told them that you’re my husband.”  You ducked your head.

“And they believed that?”

“Hey, I’ve forged a few documents in my time, Sam.”

He huffed a little.  Probably the closest you’d come to getting a laugh out of him.  “Pretty lousy husband if I didn’t even get you a ring.”  He nodded down to your left hand that rested between the two of you.

“Meh.  Jewelry’s overrated.  Now, matching tattoos on the other hand...” You reached up and pulled your shirt collar to the side, revealing your relatively new anti-possession tattoo.  “Told them we got them on our honeymoon.”

He closed his eyes.  “I’m sorry I never married you.”

“Sam,” it felt like your heart was in a vise.  “I would have driven you crazy.”

“Couldn’t be worse than I am now.”

Was there ever a time where you wouldn’t say the wrong thing?  “Maybe...maybe it just wasn’t our time.  You know?  We were young.  Probably too young to know how to handle married life.”

_Married?  You really think she wants to be saddled with a freak like you?_

“I don’t think he’s gonna stop until he kills me.”

“Then we’ll just have to stop him first.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Can you let me carry some of your burden?”  You set your hand back on the bed between you, palm up.

“What?  Like shared hallucinations?”  He shook his head.  “I’m the one who let him in.  I’m the one who has to deal with the fall-out.”

“Then let me at least be here for you?”  Even if he said no, you had no intentions of leaving him to suffer in solitude.  “And you might as well say yes.  No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

_This is making me a little ill.  Is it making you ill?  I mean...this is the same kind of devotion that wound up with Dean taking a ride on the down elevator back when you were just one of Azazel’s special kids.  Wait, Sam--you don’t think she’d make a crossroads’ deal for you, do you?_

“No!” Sam was on his feet, yanking you up by your shoulders.  “Get out of here!  You have to get the hell out of here.”  

His fingers were digging into your skin and you knew there’d be bruises in no time.  Still, you stood your ground.  Not backing down.  Even when he started to shake you.  You were in this with him, one-hundred percent.  No matter what.

“Sam--”

“You don’t understand.  He’s trying to use you against me.  I won’t let him hurt you!”

_Ah, but you see, Sammy, it’s not my fingers that are around her throat.  You hear her, fighting to breathe?  That’s all you._

Instantly, you could draw in a full breath again.  When the spots were no longer blurring your vision, you saw Sam had plastered himself against the far wall of his room, looking on in horror as you pushed yourself up from the floor.

“I’m tougher than that, Sam.”  You choked out, slowly rising to your feet.  “Tell Satan he needs to up his game if he thinks I’m gonna run screaming anytime soon.”

Sam fell to his knees at your feet, hugging you to him, the side of his face pressed to your belly.  You’d just started running your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him, when the doctor and orderly burst into the room.

“Is everything OK in here?”  Both men were out of breath.  They must have come running when they heard the commotion.

“I think...I think we’re OK.”  you sighed, still trying to catch your own breath.

“Are you sure?”  The doctor eyed your neck.

“Positive.”  You forced a smile to your face.  

“Alright.”  Sighing, the two men left the room, still closing the door behind them.

As soon as the door was shut, you dropped to your knees.  “Alright, Sam.” You used your hands to gently guide his head, forcing eye contact.  “You tell that sorry mother fucker I’m not going anywhere.  He wants me gone, he’s gonna have to do better than that.”

“I--I’m so sorry.”  Tears filled up his eyes.

You pulled him in for a hug.  You felt him sag against you as he cried into your shoulder.

  


No matter how much you begged and pleaded, the hospital wouldn’t let you stay overnight.  You hated leaving Sam alone for any amount of time in his condition and the thought had crossed your mind to break him out of there.  But, like Dean had said, at least he couldn’t hurt himself in the hospital.

 

“What the fuck happened to you?”  Dean was on his feet the instant he saw you.

You rolled your eyes, too worn out from your time at the hospital to come up with a sarcastic remark.  “Don’t, Dean.  Just leave it alone.”

“Did Sam--did Sam do that to you?”  He reached out, his fingers ghosting over your neck.

“Yeah, OK?”  Your eyes began to cloud over in tears.  “It was just--it wasn’t his fault.  He was hallucinating.  I think--I think he thought I was Lucifer.”

You shuddered at the memory--Sam looming over you, forcing you to the floor, his fingers pressing against your windpipe.  The thought that Sam--your Sam--would be the one to end your life.  You found it hard to breathe, yet again, as the tears began to fall.

“Hey,” Dean wrapped his arms around you.  “You’re alright now.”

“Please,” you leaned back just enough to look up at him.  “Please tell me you found something.”

“I think I might have.  You ever heard of a hunter--Mackey, I think?”

“Yeah.”  You thought for a moment.  “I think I ran across him a while back.  Poor bastard’s going blind in his--”

“Except, he’s not.  Not anymore.”  Dean stepped back and headed towards the table.  “Said he came across this healer--the real deal.  Emmanuel.  You ever heard of him?”

You shook your head.  That name didn’t ring any bells.

“Mackey says this guy might be able to help.  I’m gonna go check it out.”  He looked over at you.  “You wanna come with me?”

“I--” you sighed.  “Somebody’s gotta stay here and keep an eye on Sam.”  Your smile was way too weak to be anywhere close to convincing.

Dean looked at you for a bit before nodding.  “Just...promise me you’ll get the hell out of there if he gets worse.”

“Dean--”

“I’m getting Sam better, ______.  And the kid doesn’t need to have your injuries hanging over him.”

There was no point in arguing that it wasn’t Sam’s fault.  You both knew he’d blame himself, no matter who was controlling him at the time.  Hell, Springfield had been over a year ago, and Sam was still somewhat hesitant around you.  If something worse were to happen to you...

“Be careful, Dean.”

He flashed you a cocky, albeit exhausted, smile.  “I’m always careful.”

“Liar.”

  


“Sam?”  You poked your head into his room.

“______, why are you here?”  He eyed you cautiously.

“Told you, I’m helping you through this, no matter what.”  You stepped completely into the room and shut the door behind you.

_Look at that.  She wore a turtleneck.  Wonder why._

“You shouldn’t be here.  I’m dangerous.”  Sam dropped his gaze to the bed.

“Nah.  You’re just a big puppy.  I’m the one who’s been hunting longer.”  You gave him a half-smile, but he wouldn’t even look at your face.  “Can I sit with you?”

“Look, just go.  I’m not worth this.”

“Are you telling me I’m stupid?”

His eyes widened as he looked at you.  “No--no, why--”

“Then don’t sit there and tell me you’re not worth it.  You are worth it.  You are worth everything to me.”

“______--”

“No.  You don’t get to tell me what I should feel.  So I’m just going to sit here,” you dropped to the floor next to his bed, “until you tell me it’s alright for me to sit with you on the bed.”

Trying to take his hand yesterday had been a mistake.  Sam needed to be the one calling the shots here.  He certainly didn’t have control over his mind, so you could at least give him this little bit.

After several minutes of strained silence, Sam finally spoke.  “Please.”

“Please, what, Sam?”

He growled a little, making you smile.  “Sit with me?”

_You know it’s just pity, Sam.  She feels sorry for you.  She doesn’t actually love you._

“Shut up.”

You sat down next to him, placing your hand between the two of you, palm up.  “I talked to Dean last night.  He says he thinks he found a guy who could help you.”

“Dean’s grasping at straws, ______.  There’s nothing that can help me.”

_Nothing but the sweet, sweet relief of death._

“Bullshit.  You and your brother have pulled more wins out of your asses than anyone else I’ve ever met.  It’d be stupid to bet against either of you.”

“Why are you wearing a turtleneck?”  

That question came out of nowhere.  “Didn’t want anyone thinking I had a bunch of hickeys.”  You smiled hesitantly.

Slowly, not trusting himself, he reached over and pulled the neck of your sweater out a little.  You held perfectly still, fighting the wince that came from the shift of the fabric against your skin.  As soon as he saw your neck, he gasped, recoiling.  “Oh my god.”

_God?  Try a little further south._

“I’ve had worse.  Man, this one time,” maybe you could distract him. “This one time, I was hunting a ghoul.  Twisted little fuckers, ghouls.  You ever hunted one of those?”

“Once or twice.”  He tried to settle himself back down.

“Well, I have this scar that runs from my ankle, all the way up to my knee from one of those things.  Pretty sick looking.”  You smiled a little.  “You would not believe how good I’ve gotten at stitching myself up.”

_She wouldn’t have had to stitch herself up if she’d had a hunting partner.  Dean was supposed to have been her hunting partner.  But then you had to go get involved and run her off.  Way to show someone you really care about them._

“I do!”

_Right.  That’s why she’s got all those marks around her neck._

He didn’t seem to be shouting at you, so you pressed on.  “Of course, I’m sure you and Dean have had to learn a few things about first aid, too.”  You sighed, trying to think of more things to talk about.  “Nothing will beat that angel-healing shit though.  The one time Cas healed my shoulders...man, it was like they were brand new.”

_Doesn’t that make you angry, Sam?  She let Cas put his hands on her.  Bet she let Dean touch her, too.  Wonder if she makes the same noises with them that she used to make whenever you’d touch her._

“Fuck.”  Sam grabbed his pillow and tried to wrap it around his head.

Was it the fact that you’d mentioned Cas?  He had been the one to break Sam’s wall.  Had you triggered something in his brain?  Shit.  

_Wonder if she’d make the same noises if you touched her now.  You remember all her sweet spots, right Sam?  How she used to writhe and moan at the first press of your tongue on her skin?_

Sam was in the fetal position at the head of the bed.  You watched helplessly as he rocked back and forth, trying to drown out whatever was going on in his head.

_And oh, how she tasted.  Do you remember that, Sammy?  I certainly hope so.  Because you know, she’s never going to let you have that again.  You broke her, Sammy.  Just like you break everything else._

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”  Sam kept chanting the words over and over as he started to sob.

You couldn’t just keep watching him in pain without at least trying to offer a little bit of comfort.  “Sam, I’m going to touch you now.  Please tell me if that’s not OK.”  

As if reaching out for a wild animal, you moved your hand closer.  His apologies had morphed into pained groans, so you weren’t sure if your message had gotten through to his frazzled brain.  Still, you had to try.

Once your fingertips brushed along his shoulders, his movements, his noises--it all stopped.  “Sam?  Is this OK?”

_She’s touching you, Sam.  She wants you.  Wants you to take her.  Wants you to push her face down into the mattress while you force inside her.  Wants you to pound into her until she’s a screaming, crying, bloody mess.  Go on.  Take her.  You know you want to.  Isn’t that what you told her in--_

“Please.” His voice was soft, pleading.

You stilled your hand.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“I--it feels...good.  But...he likes it, too.”

_I like seeing the way it makes you squirm._

“Oh.” You frowned and pulled your hand away.  “Then I’ll stop.”  You were at a loss now.  “Dean said it could take a little while before he’s back with this healer.”

“You need to stay away from me, ______.  I’ll just end up hurting you again.  Maybe worse next time.”

“Not happening.”

“Then I’ll refuse to see you.”

What did the universe have against you and Sam being together?  “Don’t.  Don’t shut yourself off from me.  We’ve spent too much of our lives not being with each other.”  If he truly didn’t want you around, you would go.  But if this was his way of trying to protect you, then you’d fight him on it.  “Please?”

“I nearly killed you yesterday!  What the hell would make you want to come back?”

You smiled--at least he wasn’t insisting on pushing you away.  “I told you, a long time ago, that I loved you.  That hasn’t changed.  No matter how hard I tried, I never could quite figure out how to stop loving you.  It hasn’t changed and it’s not going to change.”

Before Sam could respond, there was a knock on the door, followed by an orderly pushing a cart into the room.  “Time for lunch.”

You and Sam both just watched as the man set the covered tray on the desk.  Once the cover was lifted, you could see the burger that was to be Sam’s meal.

“Is there any way he could get a salad or something?”  You knew this was no restaurant, but surely they could provide something a little more healthy than a soggy burger.

“Uh, we don’t offer meals that would require utensils.”  The orderly shrugged.  “Sorry about that.”  Then he and his cart were gone.

“You know, just in case one of us gets the idea to stab ourselves with it, or something.”  Sam filled in the explanation.

“Are--I mean--would you--you know, do something like that?”

“Not on purpose.”  He sighed and reached for the tray.  “I’m guessing Dean told you why I wound up in the hospital to begin with.”

“Something about you running in front of a car.”

“I wasn’t--I wasn’t trying to kill myself.  I didn’t even see it coming.”  He heaved a sigh.  “I was just trying to get away from Lucifer.”

“That’s good.  I mean, not that Lucifer was--I mean--”

“I know what you mean.”  He lifted the burger to his mouth and took a bite.  Before you knew it, the burger was on the floor and Sam was spitting out the bite he’d taken.

“Sam!  What the hell ha--”

“Maggots,” he choked out.  “Sandwich.”

You picked up the burger and inspected it carefully.  A little greasy, but there were no maggots to be found.  “Sam--”

“I can’t eat it.”  He looked up, panicked.

“OK, alright.”  You set the burger and the tray back on the desk.  “What can I do?  Do you want me to go see if there’s a game or something we could play?”

“A book, maybe?”

You smiled.  “Anything in particular?”

 

“‘...He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls,’ said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there....”

_Little Women.  Really?_

“‘...being disgraced in school is a great deal tryinger than anything bad boys can do...’”

_Why the hell are you letting her droll on with this?  It’s boring.  You don’t even like the story.  Fuck, wake me when it’s over._

As you kept reading, you felt Sam place his hand in your upturned palm, lacing his fingers with yours.  The move shocked you from the page and you looked up to see a tired smile on his face.

“Satan isn’t a fan.”

“Should I keep going?”

“Do you think you could keep reading, even if I fall asleep?”

You just grinned and picked up where you’d left off.

  


“OK, so today, I brought some books from the library in town.  Is it just stories with female protagonists he doesn’t like, or is it any classic literature?”  You dropped the bag of books you’d conned the sweet little librarian into lending you.

_I’m on to the two of you, Sammy boy.  You think she can just bore me out of you?  Oh, and wouldn’t you know it, she wore a scarf.  It’s almost like she’s ashamed of what we did to her.  What you did to her._

“Uh...” Sam shook his head, looking a little more rested than he’d been since the first day you’d walked into his room.  Probably the most sleep he’d gotten in over a week.  “Just start somewhere and we can see where it takes us.”

“So, you OK if I start with Robin Hood?”

_Look at her, Sammy.  Look at how she tries so hard to protect you from yourself.  But you did that to her.  You marked her up.  Like you own her.  Like she’s nothing more than property to you._

“How--how’s your neck?”

“Um...it’s...it’s OK, I guess.”  

_She can’t even meet your eyes.  She’s afraid of you.  Afraid to look at the monster you really are._

“Damn it.”  Sam squeezed his eyes shut.  “I can’t--”

“Just focus on the story, OK?”

“I don’t think--”  He was beginning to hyperventilate.

“Should I go back to Little Women?  I just need to go--”

“No!”

Before you could blink, Sam had you pinned under him, yet again.  You tried to struggle from his grasp, but he merely dug his fingers into your skin, harder, until you felt something pop in your shoulder.  At least it wasn’t your neck this time.

Closing your eyes, you steeled yourself for what you were about to do.  Without giving yourself time to overthink, you wrapped your legs around his waist and twisted.  He must not have anticipated you fighting back, because you quickly found yourself free of his hold.  You didn’t waste a moment, springing to your feet, knowing he’d be back on you in a minute if you gave him the chance.

“Come on, Lucifer,” you snarled, adrenaline making it easy to ignore the pain shooting up and down your arm.  Sam might be a shit-ton stronger than you, but you were smaller, faster.  And you’d have to use that to your advantage.

He lunged at you, but you sidestepped, sweeping your foot out and knocking him off his.

“You’re not getting me or my Sam.  We’re going to beat you.  You hear that, Sam.  It’s not just you against him.  I’m in this with you.  Always.”

_Oh, this is going to be fun._

Sam picked himself up.  “No!  I will not let you hurt her.”

_But I’m not the monster she’s terrified of.  It’s your face she sees when she wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming._

Sam pressed his hands to his ears and dropped to his knees.

_Fine.  You wanna play hard ball?  Maybe we’ll just let ______ burn on the ceiling.  Like everyone else you’ve loved._

Sam watched in horror as you were flung back against the wall.  He was helpless to do anything as you slowly slid upwards, along the wall, then the ceiling, until you were directly overhead.  He saw your face twist in pain, a silent scream for help on your lips.  Then everything was on fire.

“______!”

Sam curled in on himself, but you didn’t know how to help.  He’d pretty clearly indicated to you that touching was a no-go unless he had a grip on the hallucinations.  But how were you supposed to get to him now?

“Sam, please.  Baby, I’m begging you, please come back to me.”  You knelt over him, tears falling from your eyes, desperate to know how to reach a man that was barely six inches away from you.

  


“Please tell me you got that Emmanuel guy.”  You hadn’t even waited for Dean to say hello.

“I did...just...it’s Cas.”

“What?”

“Emmanuel--is Cas.”

“You mean the assclown that broke Sam?”

“Very same assclown.”

“Then what the hell, Dean?”

“He doesn’t remember.  Any of it.  Says he woke up, no memory, no clothes, nothing.  Got his name from bouncingbabynames.com.”

“OK, so let’s pretend all you just said makes sense.  Can he fix Sam?”

“He says he thinks so.  We’ll find out when we get there.”

You felt your breath hitch a little.  “Get here soon, please.”

“What happened?”

“I think...I think he confused me for Lucifer again.”

“Shit.”  He sighed in frustration.  “Look, I know you wanna be there for him, but you’re not going to do anyone any good if you wind up getting hurt.”

“I’m not leaving him in there, Dean.  I don’t care what happens.  He doesn’t deserve to go through this alone.”

After a few moments, Dean spoke again.  “Alright, ______.  Just, be careful.  OK?”

If being careful meant leaving Sam on his own to deal with his hallucinations, you couldn’t promise that.  “Just get here as soon as you can.”

“Will do.”

  


“I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s not receiving any visitors today.”

You stared blankly at the nurse behind the desk.  No one had come running when Sam had pinned you to the floor and popped your shoulder out (which, for the record, was a bitch to shove back into place without some angelic healing).  Had he really gone so far as to blacklist you?

“Any particular reason?”

“He had a bit of an episode last night.  Lights busted in his room, and...” He looked up from the chart.  “Funny enough, a ring of salt was on the floor.”

Salt.  That meant there was a ghost in the hospital.  Shit--like you needed something else to go wrong.  “But he’s OK today?”

“The doctor wants to run a few tests.  Since his behavior is getting worse, he’s looking to change your husband’s treatment.”

“To...what?”

He looked over to the other people in the waiting room.  “I think it would be best if we discussed this in private.”

“Um, sure.”  You stepped to the door and waited for the buzz before opening it.  The nurse was by your side a moment later.  “Now, will you please tell me--”

“I better let the doctor explain his plans.”  He ushered you into a room.

Once the light was flipped on, all you could see was a metal gurney and a tray with a towel over it.  Definitely not an office.  “I think you better start expla--” You tried to spin around, but an arm was suddenly around your neck and a towel pressed to your mouth and nose.  You struggled, but you could feel your senses quickly deserting you.

  


"Nice of you to join me again, ______."

You blinked several times, trying to fight against the drugs coursing through your system. "Wha--?"  You tried to get your bearings--you were lying on a cold metal table, well, strapped to it was more accurate.  One belt was around your chest and arms, right over your rib cage.  Another secured your hips, and the third was just below your knees.

"Curare.  Just made you a little more cooperative." The nurse just grinned before his eyes turned black.  “But I need you awake now.  So, up and at ‘em.”

“Fuck you.”  Your voice was slurred.  You could feel yourself becoming more and more coherent, but you still had little control over your motor skills.

“One of the great things about possessing people in the medical field--all the fun toys you get to play with.” The demon yanked a towel off the tray next to you to reveal a set of surgical tools.  “Now I just have to decide which one to use first.”

“Fuck.”  Your voice was no more than a whisper.  This was why your brain wasn’t as clouded over, even though your body was still heavy and useless.  This bastard wanted you to know what was happening to you.

“I think, for you, I’ll start with the scalpel.  It’s a classic, after all, and the quickest way to get to the best part of you.”  He picked up the blade and inspected it.  “Now, where to start?  Hmmm?  Should I start at the bottom and work my way up?”

The knife was pressed into your skin.  You hissed at the slow, methodical way it moved up your right leg, not too deep--he didn’t want you bleeding out or going into shock.  He wanted you present.  To be aware.

“Truly amazing, isn’t it?  Never spent a day in medical school when I was alive, and yet, muscle memory is such a wonderful thing.”  He tapped the side of his head with the hand not currently slicing you open.

“Like--like to hear yourself talk, huh?”  You groaned through your teeth when he reached your hip.  

“I know where all the major arteries in your body are.  Just by accessing this meatsuit’s mind.  Like right here,” he pressed his thumb into your skin, hard enough to bruise, “is your iliac artery.  Slicing into that would have you bleeding out much too quickly.  However,” he jammed the scalpel into your hip, deep enough that you could feel it hit bone.

Your groan of pain quickly turned into a scream of desperation.  Your leg was on fire, from the inside, out.  You tried jerking at your restraints, anything to free yourself from the pain of feeling him dragging the blade through you, scraping along the bones, tearing your flesh.

“Yeah, you see--here, you’ll bleed, but not enough to kill you.”  The demon yanked the scalpel from your body.  “Should I give you some time to get your bearings before I continue?  I mean, I do want you to feel all of this.”

“Fuck.”  Your head slumped to the side.

“Why don’t I move to the other side?  Symmetry, and all that.”

  


_“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?”_

_“What?” You rolled onto your side and propped yourself up on your elbow._

_“Hunting, you know?  What it would be like if we weren’t doing it anymore.”  Sam didn’t turn to look at you, just kept his gaze fixed on the sky._

_“I--I don’t know.”  You puzzled over the concept for a little while.  “It seems kinda weird, you know.  Like, I--I know what life used to be like, before...”  You sighed and flopped back onto the blanket, not wanting to think about it.  “I don’t know.  Why?”_

_“I don’t wanna do this forever.  I’m tired of being a freak.”_

_“You’re not a freak, Sam.”  You reached out and found his hand, lacing your fingers together._

_“All the kids in class--they all talk about what they want to be when they grow up.  They talk about the cars they want to drive.  I just...I want to be able to do that.  To think about what I want to do, instead of just what monster we’ll be hunting next.”_

_“OK, so...what do you want to do?”_

_“I wanna go to college.  I wanna get a job and a house and a wife.  I wanna have a family that doesn’t live out of a car.  And I wanna get a dog.”_

_You sighed.  “And this wife of yours, what’s she look like?”_

_Finally, he turned his head to look at you, a smile on his face.  “You jealous?”_

_“Bet she won’t know how to field-strip a handgun,” you said defiantly.  “Or how to kill a shapeshifter.”_

_“She would if I married you.”_

_You bit your lip.  “I don’t know how to be somebody’s wife.”_

_“Well, I don’t know how to be somebody’s husband.  Doesn’t mean we can’t learn together.”  He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.  “Would you...would you want to do something like that?”_

  


_“Sam?”_

_“______...what’s wrong?”_

_“I just...you’d tell me if you were going to leave me, right?”_

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“My mom...she...she’s not dead.”_

_“What?”_

_“We were just passing through this stupid fucking town just outside Flagstaff to get something for dinner and...she was there.  Back behind the counter.”  You were nearing full blown hysterics now.  “Dad just...and she...she left us, Sam.  She left me.  She didn’t want me.”_

_“Where are you?”_

_“At the motel.  Dad just dropped me off...he...I don’t know where he went, but...Why didn’t she want me, Sam?”_

_“Can you hang tight for a little while?  I’m on my way to you.”_

_“No...no,” you tried to reign in your emotions.  “I’m...I’ll be fine.”  You wiped your eyes on your sleeve._

_“Too late.  I’m already shoving my shit in my bag.  I’ll be there in an hour.”_

_“An hour?  Sam--”_

_“______, I’m not leaving you alone to deal with this.  I--I love you.”_

_“I love you, too, Sam.”  That had your eyes spilling over in tears once more._

  


_Sam grinned up at you.  “You taste so good.”_

_“Shit, Sam,” you arched your back as his tongue found your clit once more.  Too much.  It was too much, and yet, not enough, all at the same time.  “I need--”_

_“Shhh.  I know what you need.”  He pressed two fingers inside you.  “God, you are so beautiful.”_

_“Sam, please!”  You tugged harder on his hair, trying to pull him back up.  You needed him inside you.  His fingers were good, but it wasn’t enough.  “Please, just...”_

_“Have I told you how much I love hearing you beg?”_

_“Sam Winchester,” you did your best to glare at him, even as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, “if you don’t get up here and fu--”_

_He moved up your body way too fluidly for someone as tall as he was.  His lips stole your words from your mouth.  “Hearing you threaten me should not be as much of a turn on as it is.”_

_“Sam,” your voice still had a hint of warning in it._

_His grin deepened._

  


You groaned, feeling your face being batted around.  When would this fucking stop?

“______!”

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Dean’s face.  Oh, god.  Had Dean been captured, too?  No, he wouldn’t have been that stupid.  Not like you.  

Where the fuck were you?  Where was Sam?

“Sam!”  Hands shoved at your shoulders, pinning you down.  You thrashed around as hard as you could, trying to get free.  “No!  Where is Sam?  They have Sam!”

“Nobody has Sam, ______.  He’s back in his room.”  

You blinked at the new voice and looked over to see Castiel, angel of the Lord.  “You fucker!  You did this to him!  It’s all your fault!”  You tried to get to him, just to get one good punch to his face, but Dean easily held you down.

Cas’s face fell.  “I know.  And I know there is no way I can ever make amends for what I’ve done.”

“Let me up, Dean,” you growled, glaring at him.

“Are you kidding me?  You nearly got your guts ripped out by a demon and you think you’re ready to take on an angel?”

His wording stopped you.  What was he talking about?

The pause was enough to get your adrenaline to drop, leaving you reeling from the sudden onslaught of pain.  You looked down over your body--at all the new lacerations you had.  How had you not bled to death?  Oh, that’s right.  It was starting to come back to you now.  Fucking demon.  Except...

“Why am I naked, Dean?”  Your glare was back even though your voice was significantly weaker.

“Gonna need a week’s worth of stitching, and the only thing you have to say is ‘why am I naked’.  Yeah, you’re definitely not possessed.”  Dean looked at Cas.  “Heal her.”

“Dean--” Cas began.

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me.  Fucking heal her.”

“I can’t, Dean.  I’m not attached to the Heavenly Host anymore.  And if I am to fix Sam, then I need to preserve the rest of my powers.  Killing all of those demons has already drained me significantly.”

Dean closed his eyes.  “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.

“Look, are any of these life threatening?”  You winced as you tried to gesture to your body.  God, even that little gesture made you nauseous.  

“From what I can tell, no.  The demon did an exceptionally good job at making sure not to kill you.”

“Then you better fucking save Sam.”  It was a fight to stay conscious.

He sighed and nodded.

“And Dean, I’m probably gonna pass out soon, but when Sam is better, will you tell him I love him?”

“Tell him yourself, ______.”  Dean’s cocky smile did little to hide the worry in his eyes.  “I’ll have you stitched up in no time.”

“K.”

  


_No, no, no, no, no!_

_The demon lifted the scalpel to your face, ghosting the blade across your skin.  “The more you jerk around, ______, the worse it’s going to feel.”  He pressed the blade just under your eye._

_Oh god!  He...he was going to cut them out!_

_“No, please...”_

_He pressed the heel of his free hand against your forehead to hold your head still.  Then he began to slice.  You screamed as the pain overwhelmed you.  But the more you screamed, the harder he dug in.  Red swam in your vision until it faded to black._

 

“______!”

Your hands were at your eyes, immediately pressing, checking if...Oh god, you could see.  You still had your eyes.  But Sam...where the hell was he?

“Breathe for a second, ______.”  Dean was at your side.  “You’re OK.  We got you to Bobby’s cabin and stitched you up.  You’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Where’s Sam?”  Your heart was still racing.

“Bathroom.  He’ll be back in just a minute.”

“He’s OK?”

“Yeah.  Cas--stupid bastard--did some transference thing and took Sam’s hallucinations.  We had to leave him back at the mental hospital.”

“Are we still there?”  You tried to sit up.

Dean gently pushed you back down.  “No.  Bobby’s cabin.”  He sighed.  “Sam!”

It wasn’t a minute later before Sam came rushing into the room.  “Wha--______, oh thank god.”

You slapped weakly at Dean’s hands, hoping to move them so you could sit up, but he simply rolled his eyes.  “Relax, ______.”

“Sam--”  Your breathing began to slow to a more normal rate and you could draw in a full breath.

“I’m here.”  His smile was sad as he knelt next to the bed.  Finally, Dean stepped back, leaving you to focus solely on Sam.  “You’re safe, OK?”

You shook your head.  “He was gonna cut out my eyes.”

“You’re not there anymore, ______.  Dean got you out before he could.”

“Don’t--don’t let me fall asleep again, Sam.  Please.  When I close my eyes, it’s like he’s there, just waiting for me.”  

He and Dean exchanged a look before he turned back to you.  “You gotta sleep, baby.  You’re still healing.  You aren’t gonna get better if you don’t sleep.”

You closed your eyes but you couldn’t hold back the anguish as tears rolled down your cheeks.  Even him calling you baby didn’t seem to quell the fear welling up inside you.

“Would it...would it help if...fuck it.  Dean, help me scoot her over.”

With a puzzled look on his face, Dean helped Sam move you to one side of the bed, taking care not to hurt you.  Without further explanation, Sam kicked off his boots and climbed in the bed with you.  

“Now, you’re going to sleep, and I’m going to keep you safe.  Got it?”

“I’ll...uh...I’ll just go...somewhere.”  Dean smiled before ducking out of the room.

“What if he gets you, too, Sam?”

“That’s what I have the knife for.”  He patted the pocket of his coat and smiled.

“I don’t think I can go to sleep right now.”  No, your mind was still racing from the nightmare.  But, with Sam this close, you definitely felt yourself relax significantly.

“You want me to tell you a story or something?”  He reached over and brushed the hair out of your face.

“Is he really gone, Sam?”

He frowned.  “Yeah, Dean and C--”

“I mean Lucifer.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Cas did some weird thing and...Dean said he transferred Lucifer to himself.  Haven’t seen him once, since.” He bit his lip and you felt his fingers touching the base of your neck.  Right where he’d left a ring of bruises.  “Can...no.  I can’t even ask you that.”

“I don’t blame you for it, Sam.”  You slowly reached up and took his hand.  “I don’t blame you for any of it.  Not Stanford, or the Apocalypse, or Springfield, or this.”

“Why?  Why would you not blame me for all of that?”

You sighed.  “I love you, Sam.  It’s been years, and I still feel the same way about you as I did when we first said it to each other.”  You bit your lip.  “Do you remember...”

“Yeah.”  The corner of his mouth hitched up.  “And I remember two amazing weeks with you in Flagstaff.”

“Do you remember Bones?”

“I remember how you wanted to name him Yoda.”  He rolled his eyes, but still continued to smile.

“Yoda’s a good name for a dog.” Your protest was weak, though.  It was just good to see Sam smiling.  “Bones is cliche.  Like naming him Rover or something.”

“It’s not cliche.  It’s classic.”

You chuckled.  Same argument he gave you back then.  “Do you remember how we used to take all the blankets and pillows from our motel rooms and go out into the parking lot and just look at the stars?”

“Do you remember how pissed my dad got that one time we accidentally fell asleep and they nearly ran us over when they came back?”  He chuckled.  “Dean thought that was the funniest thing.”

“That’s because he’s a jerk.”  You felt your face heat up.  “Do you remember the last time we were in a bed together?”  When he didn’t immediately respond, you backtracked.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t--I mean, you’re probably not...I’d get it if you don’t--”

“I remember.”  He closed his eyes and sighed.  “I remember holding you and...It’s never going to be like that again, is it?”

“Well, I certainly don’t think I can bend like that anymore...”

His eyes shot open and he studied your face.  “How can you possibly want something like that with me?”

“I told you,” you smiled, sleep finally tugging at you again.  “I love you.  If I haven’t been able to stop thus far, what in the world would make you think I’d be able to stop, ever?”  You closed your eyes and snuggled closer to him.

“I don’t deserve you.” Still, he pressed his lips to your forehead.  “After everything I’ve done...”

“Meh.  You just keep things interesting.”  You opened your eyes.  “Stop overthinking it, Sam.  I can feel you tensing up.”

“Sorry.”

You sighed.  “Do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do.  For as long as I’ve known you.”  He sighed.  “I just--All the things I’ve put you through--”

“Stop.  Shut your brain off for a little while and just hold me, OK?”

“Yeah.  I can do that.”

 


End file.
